Have you seen this man?” I shoved a dog-eared photograph in the bartender’s face.

The local looked at me like I was a beast with three heads. The patrons in the crudely-built bar glanced up at me before returning their attention to the grimy cups in their hands. Some of them spat a few words to their companions. I had no doubt they were talking shit about me – an American soldier – a nuisance in their village, but I didn’t care.

I had one goal, and one goal only.

To find my brother.

Or whatever was left of him…

“Have you seen this man?” I asked again, raising my voice.

The Vietnamese man shook his head. “S-Sorry…” It was clear he had no idea what I was saying.

“Does anyone here speak English?” I surveyed the room, but no one moved.

I growled under my breath. Useless.

Seeing I would get nowhere with these people, I placed the photograph back in my breast pocket and headed out. As I did, I bumped into Martin, my bunk partner.

“Hey man, why the sour look?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction. “We haven’t even been here more than thirty minutes. The women giving you a hard time already?” He joked, slapping me on the arm. “Give them some time, I’m sure they’ll warm up to your charm soon enough.”

I glared at him. “Drop it, Martin. I’m not in the mood.”

“Damn. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Martin, as persistent as ever, followed me as I tried to storm off. “It’s your brother, isn’t it?”

I whipped around and stared at him, my arms crossed over my chest, my feet planted in a wide stance. My jaw locked with irritation. I really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Standing there like a brick wall won’t make me go away.” He said, leaning against a nearby utility pole in a nonchalant manner. “You go through this frenzy every time we set foot in a Vietnamese village. I’m sorry to tell you this, but your brother isn’t coming back. It’s been what, fifteen years? There’s no way he’s survived in the jungle for so long. I don’t care how good of a fighter he was.”

“Shut up.” I spat, my fists tightening as my rage threatened to get the better of me. I loved Martin, but sometimes, he just didn’t know when to let it go. “You don’t know anything about him. He’s out there. I can feel it in my bones. I don’t care what you or anyone else says. I’m going to find him.” Without another word, I stomped down the road, kicking up dirt in my wake. I didn’t bother to look back as I entered another run down building.

Part of the roof looked like it was ready to cave in at any moment. A hole in the front wall was patched with a crude plaster of American newspapers. When I stepped through the doorway, I found a group of women sitting in a circle, each of them kneading some kind of dough.

Their eyes widened as they saw me. Subtly, they scooted closer to the back wall, obviously thinking I was going to take advantage of them. “Look, I’m not here to hurt you,” I said, trying to be as gentle as possible, but my deep, gravelly voice no doubt sounded hostile because they huddled together. One woman was holding onto her daughter as if I would snatch her away forever.

Then again, I didn’t know why I was surprised. American soldiers always had a bad reputation when they were overseas. Murderers. Rapists. You name it. We’ve been accused of it. Only takes one bad apple to spoil the batch, I suppose.

I sighed and got down on one knee, hoping this would help soothe their anxiety. In this position, I once again pulled out my brother’s picture, holding it in their direction. “Have you seen this man?”

They looked at the photograph for a long, long time. A mouse scuttled along the corner of the room, its feet pattering against the dirt floor. That was the only sound that could be heard. That, and my heart beating a little faster in the hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the time when someone finally recognized him.

“Have you seen him?” I asked again.

Most of the women gave me a blank expression. I sighed. This was hopeless. I was about put it away when one of the younger girls stopped me, her small, thin fingers wrapping around my wrist.

She looked like she was in her early twenties, her hair long and beautiful, unlike some of the others. Carefully, she wet her lips. “Is that your brother?” She asked. Her accent was heavy, but she spoke slowly, making it easy to understand.

“Yes! Have you seen him?” I asked eagerly.

She shook her head. “No… I am sorry.”

“Could you ask if any of them has seen him? It’s very important.” I spoke quickly, thinking I had found myself a translator.

She scrunched her eyebrows together. “I’m sorry… I don’t understand. Speak slow.”

“Sorry.” I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my thick, dark hair, trying to calm myself down. “Can you ask them if they have seen him?” This time, I enunciated my every syllable.

She nodded, turning to the group and saying a few words in her native tongue. The picture was passed around so each woman could get a closer look, but no one recognized him.

“I’m sorry we could not help you, sir.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for your help. What’s your name? I might need your help again.”

“Trang Le.” She smiled. “And what is your name?”

“Kirk Houston.” I held out my hand for a handshake, but she just tilted her head in confusion. “Never mind. Oh… and my brother is Jacob Houston. If you could ask around… that would be much appreciated.”

She smiled and nodded.

With nothing else to gain from this place, I got up and left, leaving the women to their work.

Back on the main road, I was about to head for our ship when I noticed something reflecting the sunlight.

Golden brown hair that flowed in deep ringlets. Tanned skin. Hips that were meant to be held. A soft giggle floated through the air. Sweet and carefree. I had heard that sound before, countless times, in fact. It couldn’t be… could it?

I closed my eyes, picturing her. It had been so long. My mind must be playing tricks on me… because when I opened my eyes, she had disappeared.

She always disappeared.